The Wheelchair Chaos Continues – Just Another Day My Hilarious Life!!!

WATCH THIS VIDEO!!!

I had just come from a doctor’s appointment. You know, one of those long ones where you sit there thinking about your whole life and whether you actually drank enough water in the last decade. I was already tired, slightly over it, and just wanted to get home and do something wildly relaxing like stare at the ceiling or contemplate my existence with a snack.

But of course, my wheelchair had other ideas. The battery was like, “Not today.” It just flat-out refused to charge. So now, instead of gliding gracefully to my van like the majestic human I am, I’m being manually pushed. In public. Like some weird live-action version of Mario Kart but slower and with more wheezing.

We finally make it to the van. And this is where our confidence peaked. We have an automatic lock for my wheelchair. Big tech moment. We both assume it’s locked in place. No double-check. Just pure trust. Blind, beautiful trust.

So we get on the road. I’m in the back, silently congratulating us for being functional adults. But then, something feels weird. Not emotionally. Physically. Like gravity is shifting. I scream. Just a full-body, instinctual scream that only comes when you know you’re about to go on an unsolicited ride.

My assistant, clearly not sensing the same urgency, casually says, “What?” Like I screamed because I dropped a fry or something.

I’m trying to type a warning, but it’s too late. My chair suddenly goes, “Peace out,” and launches itself to the back of the van. It was like watching your luggage tumble down the airport escalator in slow motion, except the luggage is your main form of mobility.

All I hear is THUMP and then my assistant goes, “Ohh!!!” with the energy of someone who just spilled juice, not someone who just witnessed a four-wheeled escape attempt.

We had to pull over, recover the rogue chair, and then sit there in the van just laughing. Because of course this happened. After a doctor’s appointment. After dragging ourselves through the day.

After we got everything back in place and I was safely re-buckled like a responsible adult who doesn’t enjoy surprise chair acrobatics, I told my assistant, “Hold on a minute.” And without missing a beat, I grabbed my computer and started typing this blog. I had to capture the chaos in real-time. She looked over, saw me furiously typing with the determination of someone live-tweeting their own comedy special, and just started dying laughing. Full-blown tears. Couldn’t breathe. Which honestly made it even better because if we’re going to survive this circus, we might as well laugh the entire way through it.

Yep, I knew I could be a blogger. Just let the stories come as they hit us.